


No, you won't

by Cantmakeyouloveme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantmakeyouloveme/pseuds/Cantmakeyouloveme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had some scenes in my mind and I needed a place to put them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:
> 
> This is not a fic. I just wrote a bunch of scenes (that had played in my mind for a while). It doesn't have a plot.

Everything seemed endless that night: the sky upon their joined heads, the muffled sounds of the world sleeping, their hearts beating in synchrony. Zayn closed his eyes at the memory, a thump of nostalgic sadness surprising him.   
Liam was breathtaking under dimmed light.  
“It’s scary, innit?” said Liam “this year passed so fast” Zayn made some uncommitted sound, too busy memorizing the way Liam looked under the moonlight “It’s just” he paused a little “do you ever feel like… time goes too fast, Zee? Do you ever wanna like…” Zayn whispered a “yeah” and rested his head in the wet grass. A comfortable silence settled between them. Liam started humming some sad song under his breath. Zayn smiled and took his hand. And suddenly the world seemed to stop, as cliché as it sounds.  
Zayn turned his head slightly, shyly even, Liam was already looking at him. Zayn could feel his heart beating in his chest. An then he felt it, he wasn't alone anymore. Because right there, in that moment, his love reached to Liam. He forgot about the nocturnal landscape, he forgot about the obligations waiting for him, he forgot about his sadness and his guilt, he forgot himself. The only thing he could look at, the only thing in his mind, was the beautiful boy with the too wide brown eyes.  
A look of sadness overcame Liam’s features. He didn’t have to say anything. Zayn knew it, he’s always known. Liam side hugged him and kissed his head tenderly. A jolt of electricity passed through Zayn’s body. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He buried his face in Liam’s chest, he breathed him in. He felt like drowning, he was drowning alone.

It didn't matter. He wasn't Zayn anymore. He loved.


	2. Memory

“I love you” he mumbled “I love you so much” he repeated until his voice gave up and his lungs felt like there was no oxygen left. He could give everything for hearing it back. He felt the phantom of a hug, some fingerprints long forgotten in his skin, hot breath dancing in his neck. All was long gone. He wishes he had known how to love, back then. He wishes he had said it over and over again. He wishes he had felt Him safe and loved, the same way he felt safe and loved with Him. But there wasn't anyone by his side anymore to feel the pride swell in his chest. He was the best fucking person he’s ever met. He was in him, in every hidden interstice, in every word, in every tear. Untouchable.  
Tears touched his lips. They tasted salty. He was howling and mourning and falling in pieces. But there wasn't anyone by his side anymore. He was losing himself, but it didn't matter. All he ever wanted was in the past. And the past can’t be changed or forgotten. Trapped in time, wasting away the hours, he was a phantom himself, some gone words trapped in his mouth.  
He left himself fall.  
“I’m so sorry” an ugly sob escaped his wet lips. He was misbehaved, with a running nose and tears coating his face. Eyes closing with the force of his grieve. He was just sorry for not being the person that He needed. He can’t even be that person now. He’ll never be. “What a waste”, he repeats himself, “what a waste”. How can one person have everything and nothing at the same time? He had everything, but he felt like nothing most of the time. And now that He is gone there is no one to argue with him and tell him he’s valued enough, that he’s enough.  
The sun started to rise. Another day as the others appeared in the window. He went to the bathroom, splashed his face with some cold water -an almost there shiver. And then, he faces the mirror. No one will notice, won’t they? He smirked at his reflection. At least he was holding on. He was still there, even if He wasn’t.


	3. Pretentious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is self explanatory. This is just an experiment (you can skip it if you want).

**Preface (the author?)**

Love fades. All my life I've craved for that irreplaceable thing. I’ve searched one thing which absence could, and should, destroy the soul itself. Love, nevertheless, fades. I have thought about life in terms of absolutes. And the middle ground, always the middle ground, has left me undecided. As an undecided destiny, as a broken piece that wants to be a whole, love has always seemed permanent. Love is animal and irrational, the pure thing itself. The fear overcomes me, in fact, because I don’t want to be replaced. Life has been reduced, by others, by me, to a mess of replaceable, gray and comfy lies. Grey is perfection and elegance, speaks about simplicity and shiny, practical stuff. Grey is like silver, but is like a storm too. We call it monotonous, but we fear it. Grey is like clouds, gravestones and endless days of high school. Grey is money, and luxury cars and silence. Not the silence of possibility as white, neither the silence of the death as black. Grey is the mixture of two colors of nothingness that shouldn't have mixed: eternal antagonists. You are here, my dearest reader, to forget. You’re here because you need, as I need, to believe in love, in a world in which love doesn’t exist anymore. And we have to ask, as always, if it ever existed at all.

**A chapter**

_He found him reading Keats under a tree. As a secret, he wasn’t pretty sure if it was just a consequence of his febrile imagination, he whispered “I love thee true”. He had huge eyes, and nervous lips and his toes were tapping the ground. Even quiet as Zayn was, he must have perceived him. He paused, a little bit disturbed, “Can I help you?”- His voice was pinched, maybe because of the surprise or the discomfort of being interrupted. “Sorry” he hated the trembling note in his voice “I was just looking for the arts faculty, I’m a freshman” Of course, that was absolutely necessary. If the warm in his cheeks were some kind of indication, Zayn was blushing. Truth be told, his cheeks were a little bit red too. “Walk down this path and turn when you see an old white building”. He passed his hand through his hair and tried to smile gratefully at him “Thank you very much” the stranger's own smile took over his face and he said, with a certain voice this time, “your very welcome”. He had never believed in love, much less in love at first sight. Desire, even hate, was a plausible feeling. They are palpable and corporal, much less exploited by industry and Hollywood and even church. Love always has seemed like an ideal lie. He has kept him in mind, as stupid as it sounds. Not for a day, not for a week, but for almost a year. He would return to the tree, at first hopeful, later as a way to remember. He had read Keats over and over again. He had painted him. He had dreamed with him. And now, and it was terrifying, he have started to forget him. The soft curve of his lips was less precise, the tone of her voice, the nervous gesture, everything seems to dissolve in other lips, in other voices and in other gestures._

“You look stupid” he raised his eyebrow at that “fuckable, but stupid anyway” said Louis from under, or at least that was what he supposed, Harry’s old denim jacket. He turned around to give the last touches to his raven hair and smirked in the mirror to his friend, his insufferable friend to be precise. “At least I’m wearing clothes of my size, aren’t I” Zayn chuckled lowly to the fuck off Louis said under his breath, graved his keys and throw over his shoulder a “See you later” that counts as his polite action of the week.


End file.
